


I'll Be Your Girl

by adamwhatareyouevendoing



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/F, Marriage Proposal, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22953217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamwhatareyouevendoing/pseuds/adamwhatareyouevendoing
Summary: Florence squeezes her fingers. “We are... Siobhan and I, we’re getting married.”
Relationships: Florence Cassell/Siobhan Mooney
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	I'll Be Your Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teamrebecchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamrebecchi/gifts).



> A short lil proposal/wedding fic inspired by [this wonderful gifset](https://dailydeathinparadise.tumblr.com/post/187232067113/death-in-paradise-au-florence-siobhan-get)
> 
> I love them and miss them both so much!

It’s the perfect moment.  
  
The sun is slowly beginning to sink below the hills beyond the bay, casting sea and sky in deep oranges and pinks, waves gently lapping at their feet as they walk hand in hand across the sand. Siobhan hopes her plan will make it even more special.  
  
Ahead, the stretch of beach leading to the shack beckons to them.  
  
It’s now or never.  
  
“Hey,” Siobhan murmurs, squeezing Florence’s hand in hers. “So... You know what day it is today?”  
  
Florence’s brow wrinkles adorably in confusion. “Saturday?”  
  
Siobhan laughs nervously. “No, um, Leap Day,” she says, trying to sound calm despite the rapid pounding of her heart. “There’s this old Irish tradition... It’s silly, really, just a story my dad tells about a great auntie Iona, or somebody. It’s probably more of a myth than something people actually do.”  
  
Florence presses her hand gently, encouraging. They come to a stop in the surf.  
  
Siobhan pauses for a quick steadying breath, reminding herself that Florence has no idea what she’s planning, and won’t do unless she actually manages to say it.  
  
“So, there’s this tradition,” she continues, “that on February 29th, a woman can propose.” The hand that isn’t clasped in Florence’s clutches at the strap of her handbag. “As I say, it’s stupid, and I have a whole other speech prepared about how outdated it is in modern society, but you know how soppy my dad is about this sort of thing. Mum used to joke she’d considered it until he got his act together.”  
  
Florence gives a soft laugh which Siobhan can’t help smiling at in return. If she knows where this conversation is heading, she at least hasn’t gone running in the opposite direction, which must be a good sign.  
  
“So, um, I thought... Well, it feels right, somehow. Like receiving mum’s blessing, I guess.” She releases Florence’s hand, but only for as long as it takes to open her handbag and retrieve the box.  
  
“Oh, Siobhan,” Florence gasps, smiling through tears, and it gives Siobhan the confidence to go to bended knee in the sand.  
  
“Florence,” she says, lifting the lid to reveal the ring, then taking hold of her hand once more. “Will you marry me?”  
  
Florence pulls her gently to her feet and into a kiss. For a moment, there is only the soft sound of waves on the shore and the rustling of palm leaves.  
  
Then, “Oui, bien-aimée,” she breathes between their lips. “Yes, of course I will.”

* * *

  
  
From the enthusiastic way Jack welcomes them home, out on the veranda as though he has been waiting for their return, Siobhan begins to wonder whether he didn’t mean for her to take the hint, this time.  
  
“You girls look delighted about something,” he calls, close to bounding over and joining them on the beach. “An enjoyable evening was it?”  
  
Siobhan rolls her eyes fondly, but can’t help smiling back at him as they climb the steps. “I asked her, dad.”  
  
Florence squeezes her fingers. “We are... Siobhan and I, we’re getting married.”  
  
“Oh, Siobhan, Florence! Congratulations,” Jack beams. “I’m thrilled for you both, I really am.” Rubbing his hands together, he disappears into the shack. “I think this calls for a celebration.”  
  
They both catch his eyes landing on the photo of her mum as he passes.  
  
Later, as they’re leaving for home, Florence goes out to the Jeep first, giving Siobhan a moment alone to say goodbye to her dad.  
  
Jack’s eyes shine as he looks at her. “I’m proud of you, you know that?” he says quietly. “The way you’ve handled... Everything, really. I’m so pleased that you’ve found someone like Florence, Siobhan, and that she makes you happy.”  
  
“Thanks, dad,” Siobhan replies with a watery smile. “I am, too. And I couldn’t be happier with Florence.” Her heart aches still, for the same reason as always. “I only wish mum could be here.”  
  
“I know, love,” Jack says, pulling her into a hug and holding her there. “So do I. But I also know that she’d be as proud of you as I am.” He presses a kiss into her hair. “Now, go and be with your fiancée.”

* * *

The night before the wedding, in lieu of a hen night, they all go to Catherine’s bar to celebrate.  
  
Siobhan meets them there after work, finding Florence curled on a chair opposite her dad. There is a soft smile on her face, her fingers in an absentminded caress of her engagement ring. Her smile widens when she sees Siobhan approaching, eyes full of love.  
  
“Good day?” Siobhan asks, leaning in to kiss Florence’s cheek as she slips into the seat next to her.  
  
“All the better for seeing you, ma chérie,” Florence says, taking her hand.  
  
Jack groans dramatically. “On that note, I’ll go and help JP and Ruby with the drinks, I think,” he grins, moving to join their best man and maid of honour by the bar.  
  
He passes Catherine on the way over, bearing a tray of champagne flutes.  
  
“For the happy couple,” she says brightly. “I am so delighted for you both. A wedding is so exciting!” Softly, for Florence, she adds, “I told Camille. She sends her congratulations.”  
  
“Thank you,” Florence murmurs, her eyes lingering on Catherine’s retreating back.  
  
Siobhan squeezes her hand gently. “Do you miss her?” She may not have met Camille herself, but she knows what she meant to Florence.  
  
“I miss working with her, sometimes,” Florence confides. “The team has changed so much since I first started. It feels strange when I remember how it used to be.” She reaches out to tuck a wind-whipped strand of hair behind Siobhan’s ear. “But I wouldn’t change a second of it, bien-aimée, not for anything, knowing that I’d end up here.”  
  
Siobhan gives her a quick kiss, then reaches across for the champagne. “I can’t quite believe this is happening,” she laughs, “but here’s to tomorrow.”  
  
Florence clinks her glass with hers. “To tomorrow, and the rest of our lives.”

* * *

  
  
They marry in the same church as Florence’s parents.  
  
Siobhan walks down the aisle first, on Jack’s arm, excitement increasing with every step towards the smiling faces of their friends.  
  
“You look beautiful, love,” Jack murmurs as they reach the altar, pressing a kiss to her cheek.  
  
Siobhan touches her fingers to the necklace she wears, briefly, wistfully—a birthday gift from her mum, years ago. She is here with her today, as every day. “Thanks, dad.”  
  
Jack’s eyes are drawn to the doors, then. “And so does your bride,” he says, voice hushed, stepping back to stand beside JP.  
  
“Wow,” Siobhan breathes, as Florence walks towards her, a vision in white silk. There is no time for tears now—only happiness. The kind of happiness she has dreamed about for years. Her wide smile echoes Florence’s own, their eyes sweeping the length of each other’s bodies as she comes to stand beside Siobhan. “You look... You are—”  
  
“Magnifique,” Florence says, low. Siobhan’s cheeks suffuse with warmth.  
  
They stand facing each other, hands held between them, to exchange vows.  
  
Siobhan takes a shaky breath, drawing confidence from the love shining in Florence’s eyes.  
  
“My mum used to tell me, if you marry your best friend you can’t go far wrong.” She smiles quickly at her dad before turning back to her bride. “Florence, you made me feel welcome on Saint Marie from the first moment I arrived, and every day since. Even when I was at uni, that didn’t change. I left this island for me, and I came back for me, too. I came back to be with you. I love you.”  
  
She raises their joined hands briefly to press a kiss to Florence’s knuckles.  
  
Florence’s answering smile is bright and awed, and something to be treasured alongside her soft words. “When we travelled to London for our case, I couldn’t have possibly imagined that I would meet someone as beautiful and strong as you, Siobhan, and that years later, I would find myself here, marrying you. You showed me that love could be all the things people had always told me it would be and I had never quite believed. I believe it now, mon amour.”  
  
They exchange rings—a silver claddagh alongside a simple band. Their next kiss is their first as newlyweds, sweet and lingering.

* * *

  
  
The celebrations last long into the night, helped along by a steady flow of rum and music. They take their leave as Jack is preparing to teach a traditional céilí dance to an enthusiastic Ruby, and a slightly more reluctant but equally tipsy JP.  
  
“Safer, I think,” Florence laughs, as they slide into the waiting car.  
  
“Yes, my dad’s speech will live long in everyone’s memories,” Siobhan agrees, snuggling into her side for the short journey up into the hills. “We don’t need to see him put three-quarters of the police force out of action on the same night as well.”  
  
“Maybe we should have left when he convinced the Commissioner to salsa with him,” Florence shudders. “Not something we’ll easily forget.”  
  
They are still laughing when the car pulls up outside their house.  
  
Siobhan has always felt a certain thrill in coming here, even before she moved in properly—seeing herself fit so comfortably into Florence’s space; to have Florence welcome it and share her life with her after years of facing it alone. A sense of coming home, for both of them.  
  
Now it is even more special, to cross the threshold as a married couple, hands and hearts entwined.  
  
They exchange a few lazy kisses under the stars, curled together on the veranda, then stumble through to the bedroom, fingers working nimbly at delicate buttons and clasps and laces.  
  
“You better take it easy with me tonight,” Florence murmurs, sultry and smiling, her expression belying the words. “Saint Marie needs at least one active police officer to call on in case of emergency.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Siobhan laughs warmly, allowing her gaze to rake Florence’s body slowly, despite the blush rising to her cheeks. “I think you’re fit enough to apprehend any suspect, even after mind-blowing wedding night and honeymoon sex.”  
  
Florence pulls her into another kiss, deep and urgent. “Take me to bed then, ma femme.”


End file.
